


Where The Heart Is

by bl00dw1tch



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Casual Sex, Developing Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Louisiana Voodoo vibe, M/M, No Dialogue, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Beta Read, Slice of Life, Soft Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bl00dw1tch/pseuds/bl00dw1tch
Summary: Vox and Alastor have sex at the latter's home for the first time. Vox starts to realize he might not know as much about Alastor as he thinks he does.
Relationships: Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Where The Heart Is

Alastor has an interesting home.

He hadn't been able to examine anything in much detail on his way in--and he couldn't go wandering now, not without disturbing the sleeping figure in the crook of his arm--but he'd seen enough to realize it wasn't what he'd been expecting. 

The outside had been underwhelming. Just a rickety old two story slotted between a couple of other's on the "street"--just another hut in the swamp, all chipped paint and moss and water damage, all but abandoned in appearance had it not been for the golden oil lamp light shining out of all the open windows. 

Nothing particularly ostentatious, nothing to denote that this was the home of an Overlord, the leader of this waterlogged community--just… A house.

Part of Vox had tried to rationalize it as he was guided to the door. It could easily just be a spare home. He himself had many of those--sort of. They were great for tricking intimacy out of someone without exposing anything yourself--anything real, at least. 

But as Alastor had waved at the sinners on the porches of the neighboring homes, assuring them that Vox was not there for anything serious, and that they needn't worry, the television found that theory harder and harder to believe. 

The inside was even more of a shock. 

Vox had expected red, red, black and red. Ornate wallpapers and elegant dark wood furniture, pure vintage class all topped off with some kind of persistent smooth jazz that he wouldn't be able to find the source of. 

Instead, as he shouldered his way past the faintly jingling windchimes hanging around the porch, he was treated to the sight of Alastor opening the front door, and having to push aside a thin curtain of strange garlands, beads, and fabric... In order to let him in. 

It was so… Vox didn't even know what to call it. 

Despite the light that had been shining through the windows outside, inside it was dim. And it was  _ cluttered _ . He almost tripped over a stack of folded blankets that was jutting out of the entryway closet, stumbling back and catching himself on the dresser, piled to the sky with knickknacks, on the other wall. Alastor just catches the small vase that tries to teeter off it, putting it right back with a laugh. Vox can feel his face buzz with embarrassment, but he can't help but to laugh right back as Alastor grabs his hand and leads him through the little maze of a hallway. 

Their mission to head upstairs became a race, and Vox only got a short glimpse of the living space and kitchen--it was brighter in there, thanks to the windows. A couch and coffee table framed with… Deer antlers? And a small radio on top of some kind of box covered by a tapestry, all surrounded by stacks of so many things--Vox couldn't tell what any of it was. Lots of browns and green--plants might actually have been part of the scenery in here. The kitchen was the only place that looked clean--and modern. Dark wood cabinets, stainless silver appliances, and white marble countertops. There's a pinch of the class he was expecting, he supposes.

It got darker again as they went upstairs. Alastor's room didn't even have a door on its hinges--this was just another curtain. A thicker one, green with yellow detailing. 

The room was hazy--Vox didn't have the best sense of smell, but even he could smell the burnt herb and incense in the air. He wouldn't be surprised if it permeated from the room itself, all the tapestries hanging from the ceiling and walls, the curtain canopy over the bed, the blankets and mattress itself must have absorbed some of it. 

He doesn't have time to eyeball the candlelit tabletop in the far corner--he was preoccupied with the Radio Demon dragging him by the tie into bed. 

But now Alastor is asleep, and Vox is free to peer around the room, fixtures bathed in only the light of his screen and those dimming candles. 

The two don't offer much enlightenment. He can still only see the silhouette of the things on the table--and they do not clarify much as to what is on it. It was just as cluttered as almost every other dresser or tabletop he'd seen in here. 

He furrowed his eyebrows in thought, but he still wasn't sure why they seemed so striking to him. 

He let his screen lay back down flat onto the downy pillow behind him, staring up at the ceiling, watching the shadows flicker and shift tiredly. 

He sighs contentedly after a few minutes, tucking his free arm behind his head and closing his eyes. He shouldn't be thinking so hard about this. 

The deer shifts minutely, and Vox smiles to himself when he feels an arm drape over his torso. 

… He can ask Alastor about it tomorrow morning.


End file.
